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Oregon at iHalabon I 



Ij AND OTHER POEMS ^ 

d BY LIONEL A. JOHNSON I 

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i #itgon at jHalabon | 

i AND OTHER POEMS I 

g BY LIONEL A. JOHNSON ig 

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K PORTLAND, OREGON, DECEMBER, 1905 » 






FWBALTES 
k COMPANY 







TO MY COMRADES 

OF THE SECOND OREGON VOLUNTEERS 

THIS LITTLE BOOK 

I RESPECTFULLY DEDICATE 

— L. A.J. 




Volunteers from Oregon' 



OREGON AT MALABON 

O'er verdant hills and valleys of Luzon 
A peaceful night had settled, and the stars 
Made glorious a clear, but moonless sky. 
The lights of old Manila one by one 
Appeared as night came on, and fireflies 
By thousands flitted in the foliage 
And made the bamboo and the mango woods 
Seem like some endless groves of Christmas trees. 

It was an ev'ning such as oft' delight 
The lovers who go forth to be alone 
With nature and themselves. But although there 
Were all the charms of ev'ning far and near, 
On every hand. Love stayed at home, while War 
In solemn majesty alone held sway. 

About Manila, north and east and south, 
A long, long line of fires marked the camps 
Of soldiers who held trenches to defend 
The place against the Filipino foe ; 
While to the west great war ships floated on 
The tranquil waters of Manila Bay. 
The colored, changing signals on their masts 
And restless searchlights gave strange grandeur to 
The lovely scene. 

And northward, near at hand. 
The roofs of still another city rose, 
A quaint old city known as Malabon, 
Where lights gleamed from a thousand nipa huts; 
While near the Taliahan river, which 
Ran silently between the city and 
The rice field on the south, were well-armed troops 
Of small brown men entrenched in two long lines. 

And swarming through the streets of Malabon 
Were also hoards of Filipino men, 
There to prevent, if possible, with force 



The strange Americans from marching north 

To old Malolos, where their rebel seat 

Of government was guarded night and day. 

This peaceful ev'ning was much like the calm 
That oft' precedes the coming of a storm; 
For on the morrow, so it had been planned, 
Our military force should make advance 
Upon the outward guards of Malabon. 

And it was evident that trouble then 
Was near at hand, for by the pale starlight 
One could have seen, though shadowy and dim. 
Large companies of men move silently 
About behind the trenches of our lines. 

Here in the trench in front of Malabon 
There long had been the Kansas Volunteers, 
But under cover of the night they moved 
A short way eastward, while the regiment 
From Oregon in silence took their place 
To aid them in the conflict near at hand. 

Then orders were passed down the line that all 
Should go to rest, attired not for night 
As each one would at home have been, but clad 
And armed for action, all to lie in line 
Upon the hard dirt bottom of the trench. 

As slowly hours passed the great moon rose 
And cast its light far o'er the tropic world. 
The only sounds that echoed now and then 
Upon the quiet air of night were those 
Made by the reveling of men within 
The Filipino lines. Then, too, at times 
Their bugles would break forth with some sweet call 
That sounded as a plaintive wail which cast 
An atmosphere of gloom far o'er the land. 

Our soldiers lay throughout the night beside 
Their guns and dreamed of home, or wakefuUy 
Lay thinking of the morrow's dreadful work. 



All knew that some must die before the last 
Rays of another sun would leave the earth. 
Inevitable death must sometime come, 
But it was sad to think that one might die 
Without farewell to those who far across 
The great Pacific waited longingly, 
And with anxiety for his return. 

These sentimental thoughts and dreams at last 
Came to a sudden end when with the light 
Of breaking day far to the right the sound 
Of deep-toned cannons made it known that then 
Important time for action was at hand. 
Then later as the streaks of early dawn 
Made visible the stretch of bamboo woods 
That lay beyond the gently sloping fields, 
The sharp, quick notes of bugles rang out clear 
Upon the morning air, and instantly 
Each man was up and with his gun in hand 
Stood waiting for his officers' commands. 

"Aim at those woods and fire rapidly," 
Then came the word. And as the noisy din 
Of Springfield guns broke out along our trench 
The enemy gave quick response. 'Twas then 
The air seemed filled with countless, death-charged balls. 
Which, in their unseen flight, gave forth a sound 
Half musical, and yet so solemn it 
Resembled much a mournful dirge of death. 

Though noisy was the action for a time 
It was withall quite useless, since each force 
Was safe behind a trench's earthen walls. 
At last, as if by one accord, the strife 
On either side came to a sudden lull. 

And then while stillness reigned a simple meal 
To all was served while yet each man remained 
In his allotted place within the trench. 
They ate and rested and at last each one 



Began to wait impatiently for word 
To indicate what action next would be. 

Not long had they to wait, for bugle notes 
Soon gave command, "Attention," sharp and clear. 
Then canteens, haversacks and rolls were donned, 
And large supplies of cartridges were placed 
In belts and pockets, and as then the call 
Of "Forward, March!" was heard, the men climbed o'er 
The wall of sacks upon the trench's side 
And formed in line of battle on the field. 

The Rubicon was crossed, and Oregon 
Was soon to know the courage of her sons. 
With ever-growing heat the sun shone on, 
The waves lapped restlessly upon the shore ; 
But firmly in the face of bullets moved, 
With silent guns, the line of Oregon. 

Can you in fancy stand upon that trench 
And watch the movements of that battle line? 
See how the right half of the line now breaks 
And swings around upon the railroad track; 
And in this way an angle soon is formed, 
So -while a portion thus in line moves on 
The other half in single column goes. 

Still on they go and though the bullets hum 
A concert near their ears they do not flinch. 
The torrid sun that glistens on their guns 
Has made the air oppressive with its heat. 
Their tongues grow thick and parched with thirst, and 

some 
Unable to withstand the awful strain 
Fall with the wounded on the burning field. 

Note how with quickened, steady pace they go. 
And load and fire as they hurry on. 
While other troops are now engaged 
Far to the right, the line of Oregon 
Takes form to close in strength on Malabon. 

8 



And now above the thunder of the guns 
And cannons can be heard the bugle sound. 
"Charge, charge!" it calls. The line breaks to a run. 
With gleaming bayonets they madly chase 
Across the field, and with triumphant shouts 
They drive the foe from out the first long trench. 

At last o'ercome with heat they pause and rest 
Beneath the meagre shade of bamboo trees, 
While still the bullets from a further trench, 
Like hail, are ever dropping thick and fast. 

By turn they fire on the noisy foe. 
And then by aid of hat brims fan themselves 
And from canteens, now almost dry, they seek 
Some drops of moisture for their stiffened tongues. 

Again the bugle gives command, and, though 
With dizzy, throbbing heads, they fall in line 
And move upon the enemy once more. 
Another charge and then another trench 
By Oregon is gained. They do not pause. 
But rapidly pursue the fleeing foe 
To where the silent Taliahan flows 
By Malabon into Manila Bay. 

Too late, alas, they reach the river's bank ; 
The Filipinos prearrangement made 
To meet, if need, conditions such as these. 
And e'er our men could o'er the bridges pass 
Explosions wrecked them irreparably. 

Another charge was thus impossible. 
So all remaining hours of the day 
Were spent in futile fight across the stream. 
At last o'er island homes and distant sea 
The dismal night with blinding darkness came, 
While still the entrenched enemy kept up 
An intermittent fire o'er the stream. 

The volunteers from Oregon at last 
Relieved from weary strife began each one 



To seek for absent friends. Though some were found 
Who by mischance had strayed from their commands, 
Some others were forever mustered out 
By Death, the one great officer supreme, 
And never more would answer to the roll. 

When morning dawned again, the foe had gone. 
And far above the tree-tops clouds arose 
Of thick black smoke — they'd left their homes in flames. 
And Oregon had triumphed in the fight. 



xo 



THE NEW YEAR 

When Nature first planned 

The beauties of land, 
Of sky and of each varied clime, 

She wisely arranged 

That all should be changed 
By unceasing process of time. 

Each river that glides, 

The clouds, and the tides 
Must vary with each passing day ; 

And all things on earth 

That ever had birth 
This infinite rule must obey. 

Then will the nevvr year 

That soon shall appear. 
Bring into our lives something new? 

Will it by the aid 

Of mistakes we have made 
Then cause us new ways to pursue? 

Will new scenes abound. 

And new friends be found? 
Will old ones depart from our sight, 

And to us appear 

Their memories dear*. 
Like stars in the gloom of the night? 

And, too, when at last 

The new year has passed. 
Shall we be improved by its work? 

Or will broken laws 

Of nature then cause 
Misfortune about us to lurk? 



XX 



How e'er this may be 

We cannot now see; 
We only can labor and wait. 

At work or at rest 

We can just live our best 
And follow the pathway of Fate. 



12 



CHARACTER 

Deep in the silent realms of earth 

Are jewels hid away. 
Which only patient toil can bring 

Into the light of day. 

And in each human heart are hid 
Some treasures, rich and rare ; 

Some good and useful qualities 
Unknown are sleeping there. 

Then as the years of proper life 
Their course of training make, 

These little traits of character 
Will from their sleep awake. 

New lines of pleasant duties will 

Before the eyes unroll, 
And elevating thoughts arise 

To beautify the soul. 

No speculation quickly made 
With fortune great in size, 

Nor sudden move of chance can win 
A character for prize. 

But well-spent years alone can bring 
This culture to the mind; 

Can look within the souls of men 
And better natures find. 

For by the touch of time, rough coal, 

Unpleasing to the sight. 
Is given all the lust'rous rays 

That make the diamond bright. 

13 



In history we see how men, 

Like climbing flowers trained. 

Will ever keep an upward course 
Until the top is gained. 

We see how perfect lives are built 

Upon the wisest plan ; 
How thoughts will make the character. 

And character, the man. 

Unwholesome thoughts weed from the mind 

And make it strong and true. 
And ev'ry good you give the world 

Will create good in you. 



14 



IMPRESSIONS OF EVANGELINE 

The stars of evening send abroad 
Their mild and gentle light 

To break the darkness overhead 
And glorify the night. 

And thus a nature, true and strong. 

Its radiance may cast 
Upon a fickle, changing world 

With weakness to contrast. 

High in the horizon of fame 
With brilliancy does shine 

A character of poetry. 
The fair Evangeline. 

Not honored for her worldly wealth, 

Nor for a royal birth. 
But for a pure and faithful heart 

Which makes the greatest worth. 

Although deprived of all most dear. 
Her friends and pleasant home • 

And as an exile forced to stray — 
An unknown land to roam. 

Misfortune's cold and cruel hand 
Could ne'er her purpose break. 

Nor from her gentle character 
Its strong affection take. 

Just as the rose of summer time, 
When it has ceased to bloom. 

Still lingers in the memory 
With all its sweet perfume ; 



15 



The beauty of her soul remains 

Upon the social air, 
And breathed into the heart it leaves 

Its blessed influence there. 

The noble deeds of warriors 

May paint a lovely page 
In that one part of history 

Allotted to their age, 

But the story of Evangeline 
More beautiful will grow, 

And leave its trace upon the years 
That slowly come and go. 



x6 



A PORTLAND SUNSET 

(Written for the Pacific Monthly, June, 1902) 

Above the timbered mountain crest 

Are varied hues of light — 
The burning sun has sunk to rest 

And day blends into night. 

Through ev'ning shades appear the green 
Of lawns and distant wood, 

And by the fading light are seen 
The snow banks of Mt. Hood. 

Along Willamette, gliding by. 

Are brilliant lights agleam. 
And rainbow tints of sunset sky 

Are mirrored on its stream. 

An echo of the busy day 

About the streets is heard. 
While forest branches slowly sway, 

By evening zephyrs stirred. 

In peacefulness the day departs 

With slow majestic grace, 
And to the earth and sky imparts 

Its farewell rosy trace. 

If just like this sweet ev'ning time 
Could we but end earth's strife. 

And make our closing years sublime — 
The sunset days of life. 



17 



THOSE OLD COLLEGE DAYS 

While watching tonight 

The stars clear and bright 
Shine out from the far-away sky, 

My thoughts take the wings 

That memory brings 
And back to my school days they fly. 

The school on the hill, 

The river so still. 
The landscape of fields fresh and green ; 

The quiet old town, 

The autumn woods brown 
Are now in sweet reverie seen. 

And then there are, too, 

The friends that I knew — 
The teachers and gay student throng — 

Tonight o'er the land. 

Like wind-scattered sand. 
They in other places belong. 

Though scenes new and strange 

May come with time's change. 
And far may I drift on life's sea, 

That old college time 

In vision sublime 
Will ever bring pleasure to me. 



i8 



NEWSPAPER MEN 

Life a rapid speed is taking, 

Like a ship with sails unfurled, 

And newspaper men are making 
Records of the busy world. 

Noting ev'ry good and error, 

Intermittent joy and strife, 
For Humanity they mirror 

All the smiles and tears of life. 

As the nerves convey sensations 
Of each touch and gentle thrill. 

So do writers of all nations 

Make the world throb as they will. 

New impulses they are breeding 

And improvements they have wrought, 

For a million minds in reading 

Daily vibrate with their thought. 

And though fairy Fate may never 
Lead them all to heights sublime, 

Yet, we know, their work will ever 
Decorate the paths of time. 



19 



